Debbie Macomber''s Cedar Cove Series, Volume 2

  “I’m so glad you invited me,” she said as they walked onto the ferry. “I’m a big fan of Larry Knight’s.”

  They made their way to the front, getting to the choice seats before those who’d driven on could reach them. They sat on the comfortable padded benches across from each other.

  “Larry Knight is a friend of mine,” Will reminded her. He didn’t want to point out that if it weren’t for him, Tanni’s boyfriend would never have gotten into that San Francisco art school. Thanks to him and his connections, Shaw was doing what he wanted—and at a considerable distance from Shirley’s daughter. Fortunately, Larry felt Shaw had talent and was willing to help him.

  “I really admire his work, especially some of the recent pieces. You know, the ones that were influenced by sixties pop art.”

  “Yes, he’s very talented.” Will knew he sounded a bit cursory.

  “He’s more than talented,” Shirley said. “The man is a genius.”

  Will frowned. Saying Larry was a genius was going overboard in his opinion. Maybe Shirley thought too highly of the man. Nevertheless, Will was determined to make this an evening she’d long remember. The dinner he’d arranged for afterward was guaranteed to impress her.

  “He’s worked in almost every medium,” she said, and seemed unable to keep her admiration at bay. “I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone as versatile as Larry. Well, actually, we haven’t met, not officially, but I’m familiar with his work and I almost feel I know him through you. It’s such a privilege to finally meet him.”

  Will was growing tired of this. “I’ve known Larry for years. We met in Atlanta in ’96, at the unveiling of a painting he did for the Olympics,” Will said, bringing the conversation back to himself. He’d been involved in organizing the cocktail party and subsequent press. Truthfully, Georgia had done much of the work, but she preferred to remain in the background, whereas Will enjoyed the limelight.

  Shirley nodded. “Were you aware Larry used to do cover art?”

  “Cover art?”

  “For novels.”

  Will hadn’t known about that part of Larry’s portfolio. “Really?”

  “At one time he illustrated children’s books, too.”

  He arched his eyebrows in a show of surprise. “He doesn’t anymore, does he?”

  “No. He’s priced himself out of that market and probably the commercial art market, as well.”

  Will murmured something noncommittal.

  “I’m so thrilled to have this opportunity to meet him,” Shirley said, sounding more animated than he’d ever heard her.

  Will crossed his legs and suspected now might be a good time to reinforce the fact that her entrée to the great Larry Knight was due to him. “Like I said earlier, we’re old friends.” He didn’t mention that the artist had lost his wife five years before, because it gave Larry and Shirley a common bond, which didn’t do anything to set his mind at ease.

  “Oh, I know,” she said reverently.

  He nodded, basking in her appreciation.

  “If I wasn’t for you and Larry, Shaw would probably still be working at Mocha Mama’s.”

  Some of his tension ebbed. Shirley understood; he hadn’t invited her so she could fawn over Larry Knight. She was his date.

  The Seattle Art Museum was already crowded when they arrived. The walk from the ferry dock up to First Avenue had been exhilarating. It was a beautiful spring night, and the “glitterati” were out in force. Will felt he and Shirley blended perfectly with the rich and cultured art lovers making their way to the event. The tickets hadn’t been cheap, and Will hoped Shirley appreciated that he’d put down serious money for this opportunity. He’d also made dinner reservations at an expensive restaurant.

  When they entered the gallery, Larry was standing with a group of people, all chatting and drinking a variety of high-end wines, if the bottles on display were any indication. Larry was a tall man, two or three inches over six feet. He wasn’t big or muscular but he had a commanding presence. These days he sported a neatly trimmed salt-and-pepper beard and tonight he wore a Western-style jacket. His hair, a bit too long by Will’s standards, was combed back from his forehead.

  “Come on. I’ll introduce you,” he said, steering Shirley in Larry’s direction. Knowing how many people Larry met, Will hoped there wouldn’t be an awkward moment before he recognized him.

  He waited politely until Larry was free, then stepped forward. “Larry, I’d like to introduce my friend, Shirley Bliss.”

  “Will Jefferson.” Larry shook hands with him. “Wonderful to see you again.”

  “You, too,” Will told the other man, hoping his relief wasn’t evident.

  Next, Larry turned to Shirley and extended his hand. “Shirley Bliss,” he repeated slowly. “I recognize the name. You’re an artist?”

  Shirley blushed profusely and seemed too tongue-tied to answer.

  “Shirley is a fabric artist from Cedar Cove,” Will said.

  “Shirley Bliss,” Larry said, as if the name had suddenly clicked in his mind. “Of course. I’ve seen your work.”

  “You have?” Shirley seemed stunned by this revelation.

  “Yes. Will here sent me a photograph of his gallery, and I had an excellent view of the dragon, which he said is currently on display. An incredible piece.”

  “Why…thank you. That’s one of the biggest compliments of my career.”

  “Red wine or white?” Will asked brusquely.

  Shirley glanced at him. “Red, please.”

  “While Will’s getting your wine, allow me to show you one of my own pieces.”

  “I’d be honored.”

  Will scowled as Larry led Shirley away, one hand under her elbow. He didn’t quite know how things had gotten so quickly out of control. He sensed an instant rapport between Larry and Shirley, and it worried him.

  Will located a waiter and obtained two glasses of red wine. When he rejoined Shirley and Larry and handed her the cabernet, she regarded it blankly for a second, then thanked him.

  “We’ve dominated too much of your time,” Will said abruptly, prepared to usher Shirley to the opposite side of the room.

  “We have,” Shirley agreed with obvious reluctance. “I can’t tell you how much I enjoyed speaking with you, Larry. Thank you again.”

  “No, thank you.” Larry bowed his head slightly and held her gaze a moment longer than necessary.

  “Shall we look around?” Will suggested.

  “That would be lovely,” she said breathlessly.

  Will drew her away from Larry but saw how Shirley’s eyes followed the other man as he strolled about the room, greeting his guests and chatting with them.

  As they surveyed the paintings, Will had to appreciate Larry Knight’s talent—although he wasn’t the least bit inclined to appreciate the attention Larry had paid to his date.

  Each canvas seemed to mesmerize Shirley. “His use of color and shadow is awe-inspiring,” she said at least a dozen times.

  Will knew Larry’s work sold for six figures and up. At those prices they should inspire awe.

  An hour later, the room started to clear. Will was about to suggest they leave when Larry unexpectedly sought them out.

  Shirley’s eyes lit up as he approached. “Do you two have dinner plans?” he asked.

  “We do,” Will said, not giving Shirley an opportunity to answer.

  “That’s a shame,” Larry said. “I’d like it if you could join me at a private supper this evening. I fly out early in the morning. It’ll be my agent, the exhibit’s curator, a few other people and me. We’re getting together at a club not far from here.”

  “Unfortunately, we can’t,” Will said, trying to sound genuinely sorry.

  Shirley shot him a pleading glance. “Can’t we change our plans?”

  “Unfortunately, no. I’ve made dinner reservations.”

  “Oh.” She was obviously none too happy.

  Will locked eyes with the other man, warning him
to butt out. Shirley was his date and Larry was treading on his territory.

  “Another time, then,” Larry said smoothly.

  “Another time,” Will echoed. He clasped Shirley’s elbow as he led her toward the exit.

  Once outside, he half expected Shirley to argue, but she accepted his unwillingness to share her company. Her attitude soothed his ruffled ego. It was bad enough that Shirley had hung on every word Larry Knight uttered.

  Will had made reservations at the best steak house in Seattle and preordered a bottle of expensive wine. He was surprised to learn that Shirley wasn’t fond of red meat. Maybe he didn’t know her as well as he’d thought….

  She was subdued on the ride back to Bremerton. When the ferry docked he insisted on walking her to the parking garage, where she’d left her car.

  “Thank you,” she said as they reached her vehicle. “I had such a nice time.”

  “I enjoyed myself, too,” he said, hoping to emphasize that the evening wouldn’t have been half as pleasurable without her.

  “Meeting Larry was definitely a highlight.”

  “I’m glad I could make that happen for you.” Will hated to be so blatant; still, he wanted Shirley to acknowledge his role in presenting her with that “highlight.”

  “He lost his wife, you know.”

  “Yes, I know.” So Larry had told her he was a widower. Too bad, since Will had made a point of not mentioning it….

  “Five years ago. She had a heart ailment. Apparently she’d been born with it but they didn’t find out until it was too late.”

  “Tragic,” he said. Those were details he hadn’t known. Obviously the two of them hadn’t been discussing artistic techniques in the few minutes it had taken him to get the wine. Shirley had probably revealed that she was a widow, too.

  “Yes,” she murmured, searching inside her purse for her car keys.

  “How about a nightcap?”

  Shirley smiled and shook her head. “No, thanks.”

  Will hadn’t thought she’d agree, but he’d felt he should ask.

  She’d started to open her car door when Will gently placed his hand on her shoulder. After everything he’d invested in making this evening a success, he’d appreciate a kiss.

  But Shirley turned her face and pressed her lips to his cheek. “Thank you again for a lovely, lovely evening.”

  He stepped aside as she climbed into her car, backed out of the space and drove away.

  Will felt an odd mixture of emotions as he walked toward the lot where he’d left his own car. For the past year he’d lived a restrained and modest life. Practically like a saint, if he said so himself. Or a monk. It hadn’t been easy, either. There’d been more than one opportunity to connect with a beautiful woman, to spend a night or a week with her, no questions asked.

  But the whole point of moving to Cedar Cove was to make positive changes in his life, to break old patterns. He wanted a lasting relationship and he wanted it with Shirley Bliss. Not only was she talented, intelligent, classy, but he found her extremely attractive.

  What he hadn’t considered was the fact that she might not find him attractive. That thought did more than sting; it was a hard blow to his ego. He recognized that Shirley was strongly attracted to Larry Knight, although he doubted a romance between them would go anywhere. Larry’s travel and engagement schedule would make maintaining a relationship next to impossible.

  That left room for Will….

  As he drove back to Cedar Cove, his mind was whirring with ideas on how to pursue the reluctant Shirley Bliss. So far, he’d failed; that was because he’d been too eager, he decided. A bit of circumspection would go a long way. Playing hard to get was a classic strategy, as every high school kid knew.

  He’d wait at least a week before contacting Shirley again. If another one of her pieces happened to sell, great, but he’d mail her a check at the end of the month, like he did for everyone else. No more personal phone calls or special deliveries.

  That would work. He should probably date someone else, too. He considered the options—and then in a flash it came to him. Grinning broadly he slapped his hand on the steering wheel. If anyone would get Shirley’s attention, it would be her best friend.

  Oh, yeah, Will liked a challenge and this was a two-for-one. Miranda Sullivan and Shirley Bliss. Tomorrow he’d call Miranda and ask her out.

  Ten

  Waiting for Peggy Beldon the morning after Memorial Day weekend, Corrie McAfee glanced out her living room window. Peggy, who was picking her up for their shopping expedition, had taken a break from the renovations she and her husband, Bob, were doing at their Thyme and Tide Bed and Breakfast on Cranberry Point. The place was deservedly popular; Peggy possessed the gift of making guests feel welcome in their home. She was a multitalented cook, as well. Her breakfasts—all her meals—were feasts to behold. And to enjoy.

  Corrie moved away from the window and grabbed her purse when Peggy pulled up.

  “She’s here,” Corrie called out to her husband. Roy would be leaving for his office in half an hour or so, while Corrie, who worked as his assistant, had taken the day off. That was definitely one of the benefits of keeping employment in the family.

  “Have fun,” Roy said without lowering the paper.

  “Aren’t you going to warn me about spending too much money?” she teased.

  Roy laid the newspaper on his knee. “Would it do any good?”

  “Probably not,” she said.

  “Just one small reminder,” Roy said. “You don’t save money by spending money.”

  “Yes, dear.”

  He scowled in her direction but his eyes shone with barely disguised amusement. “That’s what I thought you’d say.”

  Hiding her own smile, she blew him a kiss and was out the door.

  Peggy was on her cell phone when Corrie slid onto the passenger seat. Finishing the call, Peggy closed her cell and smiled over at her friend.

  “I was talking to Bob. He’s painting the bedrooms this week and I wanted to confirm that I had the right color for each room.” The goal for this excursion was to purchase bedspreads and sheets for the guest rooms at the B and B.

  “I thought we’d go to the outlet mall in Chehalis.”

  “Great. I haven’t been there since last Christmas.”

  The drive would take more than an hour but that gave them a chance to catch up. Corrie wasn’t looking for anything in particular at the stores. True, a bargain was a bargain, but even though Roy had implied otherwise, she was sensible.

  “How’s Mack?” Peggy asked.

  “Very well,” Corrie replied. She was happy to have her son living so close. His relationship with his father was better than it’d been since he was a child. They’d been at odds for years, which had made family gatherings uncomfortable. For her sake, Roy had tried not to goad Mack but his resolve never seemed to last long. She wasn’t sure how or why things had improved. Nothing had really changed other than the fact that Gloria had come into their lives.

  Sadness settled over Corrie as she thought about her oldest daughter. She’d given birth to Gloria as a college student and surrendered her for adoption. She and Roy had broken up; he was involved with another girl by the time Corrie discovered she was pregnant. Without telling him about the baby, she’d returned home to her family and quietly waited out the pregnancy. Not until they’d reunited a couple of years later did Roy learn they’d had a child.

  Then, as an adult, Gloria had tracked them down. Corrie was overjoyed at this opportunity to know the infant she’d relinquished to another family. After Gloria’s adoptive parents were killed in a private plane crash, she’d gone in search of her birth family. Gloria had been shocked to learn that her birth parents had married each other and that she had two full siblings—a younger sister and brother.

  All in all, their reunion had gone well. Everyone had made an effort, although a certain hesitation remained. Linnette and Mack didn’t share a family history with Gloria, who?
??d been raised as an only child. They had no memories or experiences in common.

  Everyone had worked hard, and continued to work hard, to make Gloria feel loved and wanted. And yet, at times, Corrie sensed a dissatisfaction in her oldest daughter, a feeling that she didn’t belong. In some ways they were still strangers.

  “How’s it working out with Mack and Mary Jo living next door to each other?” Peggy asked next.

  “So far so good.” Corrie held up one hand, fingers crossed.

  “She’s a lovely girl.”

  “Did I tell you Mary Jo found a box full of letters from World War II? Mack mentioned that they’ve been doing research on the war,” Corrie said.

  “Do you remember who wrote the letters? Or who received them?”

  “They were written to a Joan Manry, and they’re from her soldier boyfriend. She worked in the shipyard during the war years, but Mack doesn’t seem to think her family was originally from Cedar Cove.”

  “I don’t recognize the name,” Peggy said. She’d been born and raised in Cedar Cove and had married Bob Beldon, her high school sweetheart. They’d lived in the Spokane area for a number of years and then returned to Cedar Cove to retire, buying the bed-and-breakfast.

  “Mack said there was an influx of families during the war years.”

  “Yes.” Peggy nodded. “They came to work in the shipyard.”

  “The young soldier who wrote the letters is called Jacob Dennison. Does that name sound familiar?” Corrie asked hopefully.

  “Sorry, no.”

  “I was afraid of that.” Corrie sighed. “It’s such an intriguing mystery.”

  “What are Mack and Mary Jo doing with the letters? I wonder if either party is still alive.” Peggy checked her rearview mirror as she merged with the freeway traffic heading toward Olympia, the state capital.

  “Mary Jo wants to give them to the heirs if they can be located. Mack and Mary Jo have told us quite a lot about those letters. They really are a treasure.”

  “I’d like to see them sometime.”

  When Corrie murmured, “Oh, I would, too,” Peggy added, “I occasionally look at Bob’s letters from Vietnam and…well, they really bring back that whole time.”